


The Loneliest Man of Winter

by starfishstar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Sirius Never Went to Azkaban, Winter in the Highlands, a lonely Christmas Eve, but then an unexpected visitor, slightly canon-divergent AU, winter of 1981
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishstar/pseuds/starfishstar
Summary: In a world where Sirius went on the run instead of to Azkaban, it’s Christmas 1981 and Remus may be the loneliest man in the world.Until…
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 108
Collections: RS Small Gifts 2019





	The Loneliest Man of Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blanketed_in_stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanketed_in_stars/gifts).



> Written for blanketed_in_stars’ request in the 2019 Remus/Sirius Small Gifts exchange: for something inspired by “Lonely Man of Winter” by Sufjan Stevens (the Doveman mix, featuring Melissa Mary Ahern). 
> 
> Thank you to liseuse for betareading!

Remus huddled closer to the fire, wrapping his worn cardigan more tightly around his shoulders. Outside the cottage the wind wailed, and snow swirled thick and fast past the narrow windows. It was Christmas Eve, and Remus couldn’t help thinking himself the loneliest man in the world.

He twitched back away from the fire, already angry with himself for thinking it. He shouldn’t complain of loneliness. Wasn’t he lucky even to be alive?

Restless, Remus stood and paced to the door, which he opened just wide enough to check on the conditions outside. If the snow kept up like this, he would need to go out at some point and clear it away from the cottage entrance, to be certain of being able to get out again in the morning.

Closing the door against the flurries outside, Remus turned, pressed his back against the door’s heavy wooden bulk and closed his eyes. Surely only he would come here, to what was little more than an unmaintained bothy nestled at the foot of a steep-sided slope in the Cairngorms in a snowstorm, to wait out Christmas.

Remus had reason, though, to be as far as possible from any living soul. Far from Wales and home. Far from Hogwarts and the past. Far from London and the Order of the Phoenix and a life that would never be again.

He returned to the fire and tended it, adding another log, actions he could do without thinking. Remus was working hard, today, to keep himself from thinking.

Because it was Christmas, but James and Lily weren’t here. They would never be here again. A statement that should not be possible.

Remus’ world had ended that night, on Halloween. Yet the next day, too, it had gone on ending: a confrontation, a duel, a blown-apart street, and then Sirius and Peter were likewise gone from his world. Both of them dead, or fled, and one or the other a traitor. 

Was it Peter; funny, cheerful Peter who’d worshipped James and always had a smile for everyone? How could Peter have sworn to protect James and Lily and Harry, then turned around and handed their lives to Voldemort?

But if it wasn’t Peter, it was Sirius. Sirius, the boy Remus had given his heart, then his body and every part of his soul. Sirius, whom he’d held tight through nights of silent fear for their friends, every one of them in daily mortal danger. Sirius, the man Remus couldn’t think of now without a pain in his chest so fierce it made him gasp. A twin loss: of Sirius himself, and of the loyal friend Remus had thought he’d known, the one who would have died before harming James and Lily.

Nearly two months had passed since Halloween, and Remus’ world had not stopped ending.

He set aside the poker and settled again into the stiff wooden chair beside the grate. The fire crackled cheerfully, as if it belonged to a different, happier world, not this one that Remus inhabited. He closed his eyes, faintly hoping for sleep to come and carry away a few of these terrible Christmas Eve hours, transport him a merciful day into the future, or even an hour. But Remus knew sleep wouldn’t come. It never did, when he needed it most.

So Remus simply closed his eyes and tried not to think.

He didn’t think about Harry, left at the mercy of Lily’s awful sister. 

He didn’t think about Peter, who was either a martyr or the worst of traitors, and Remus might never know which.

He didn’t think about Sirius.

He didn’t think about Sirius.

He didn’t think about Sirius.

Something rustled and scraped at the door; outside, the wind howled. Then the hinges wailed as the wooden door fell open with a shriek and a clatter, and there in the doorway stood Sirius Black, his dark hair tangled and full of snow.

Remus was dreaming, he was mad. He had conjured up this apparition from his own sick longing. Before he’d had time to form a thought, he was on his feet with his wand drawn.

Sirius raised both hands, wandless. Defenceless.

“Hex me if you want,” Sirius said, his voice low and rough with disuse. “But I didn’t come here to hurt you.” Beneath that unkempt hair, Sirius’ eyes were hooded, wary of Remus even though Sirius himself was the intruder here. “You’re a hard man to find, Remus Lupin.”

Remus stepped back, his wand still raised. Sirius stepped in and closed the door.

“Explain,” Remus said, and he heard how his voice shook. 

Because if Sirius was here, then he wasn’t dead. But if he wasn’t dead…then he must be the traitor, just as the world believed. Peter was the martyr and probably dead; Sirius was the traitor, and standing here at the front end of Remus’ wand. For all his trembling, Remus’ wand hand held steady.

“I’ll explain,” Sirius said, his voice still gravelly, but his words fast and fierce. “But first I want you to know, when I find that rat again, I’m going to kill him.”

And Remus said, “ _Oh_ ,” as it all fell into place.

Sirius’ eyes never left Remus’ own.

“You switched,” Remus said. Sirius nodded.

The wind outside was a wail. Sirius’ dark cloak was ragged, and his eyes burned in his exhausted face. He was a different man to the one Remus had last seen two months ago, before the world broke.

Sirius hadn’t been the Secret Keeper after all, and Remus hadn’t known.

Remus spoke the inevitable next words. “And you didn’t tell me, because you thought I might be the spy.”

Now Sirius’ eyes dropped to the scuffed wooden floor. “Forgive me, Moony,” he whispered. “If I had trusted you –” 

If Sirius had told Remus his plans, if Remus had demanded to know. If they hadn’t doubted each other when it mattered most.

Remus would spend the rest of his life with that shame, and he saw how the same guilt weighed down Sirius’ hunched shoulders. Sirius would go to his grave still doing penance for that fatal moment of misjudgement.

“Sirius,” Remus said, because there was nothing else left to say.

One of them moved, or both, or neither, and then Remus’ wand was abandoned on the chair and Sirius’ cloak was cold and rough under Remus’ fingers where his hands gripped Sirius’ back, and Sirius made a sound like a sob somewhere near Remus’ ear. 

“James,” Sirius said, his face pressed hard into Remus’ shoulder, “and Lily.”

All Remus could say was, “Yes.”

“They were – they trusted –”

“I know.”

“I’m going to _kill_ him.” Sirius had pulled back so he could fix Remus with his burning eyes, though his hands still clung fiercely to Remus’ arms. “He can’t hide forever. He faked his death, did you know? Cut off his own finger, that fucking traitor, and blew up a whole street of innocent bystanders.” Sirius’ voice spiralled feverishly up. “I’m going to find him, Remus, I’m going to find Peter and destroy him.” 

“Sirius,” Remus said. “ _Sirius_.” He felt Sirius’ wildly pounding heart even through the thickness of his cloak, and felt the desperate heat of him under his hands. This was a Sirius who would tear himself apart in his quest and never even notice the damage. Remus gripped his arms hard and said, “Sirius, we will find Peter. I promise we will find Peter. But firstly, more importantly, _Harry_.”

At those words, Sirius slumped against Remus’ chest, sudden and hard, all his fight gone. “Yeah, Harry,” he repeated, his voice muffled against Remus’ shoulder. “Because I’m the one who was supposed to look out for him, if anything ever happened to his parents.” He gave a hollow, horrible laugh, and Remus felt the echo of it inside his own chest. “But what good am I?” Sirius demanded. “I’ve seen the newspapers, Remus. I know the whole world thinks I did it. I’d be in Azkaban right now if I hadn’t run. Great luck I’ll have, convincing anyone that Harry belongs with me.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Remus said. There was a strange, buoyant feeling rising in him, and it took a moment to recognise it as hope. “The Order will help, Dumbledore will help. We’ll tell them everything. You’ll have to admit to being an Animagus, so we can explain about Wormtail and let the Aurors know what to look for.” Sirius had straightened up again and was gazing at Remus with such wonder that he broke off speaking. “What?”

“You still believe that, don’t you?” Sirius said. “You’re still our old professor-ish Moony who believes that systems and order and rules work, that reason will prevail, you still believe that even after everything.”

“I didn’t believe in any of those things,” Remus admitted, “until a few minutes ago when you walked through that door.”

There was a long, excruciating silence as Sirius studied him, and saw him, utterly. Remus had never been able to hide from that gaze.

Very quietly, Sirius said, “You really thought it was me, didn’t you? You’ve been thinking all this time that I was the Secret Keeper.”

Remus looked away. He looked at the cottage’s plain stone walls; he looked at the stark wooden chair beside the fire. He’d been prepared to spend the night alone in this room, with no recourse from his loneliness. He’d thought it was all that was left for him. Trying to keep his voice even, he told Sirius, “I didn’t know what to think. It could have been either of you. And for all I knew, both of you were dead, so maybe it didn’t even matter.”

“Moony,” Sirius said, his voice impossibly soft, his hands gentle against Remus’ back. “You’ve been even more alone than I was. At least I knew you were alive.”

“Can we –” Remus began, and he heard the choke in his voice. “Could we pretend, just for tonight, that this is a normal Christmas, and everything is fine, everything hasn’t ended –” And then his voice caught entirely, and all he could do was press his face into Sirius’ rough-clad shoulder and breathe in Sirius’ tangled hair, wind-blown and wild but somehow still smelling precisely of Sirius himself. All these things Remus had thought he would never have again. 

“Moony,” Sirius was saying. “Remus, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” Remus gasped, utterly undone by the scent of Sirius’ wind-tossed hair. “It’s only that I thought you were the one who did it, and I thought how could you, to _James_ , and then I thought, what did it say about me that I loved you, how could I not have known, how could I not have seen the signs and stopped you…”

Sirius held him tight, impossibly tight. He breathed into Remus’ ear, “But it wasn’t true. I wouldn’t, ever, not to James and Lily, not to you. Never.”

“I know that _now_ ,” Remus said, trying for a laugh and only making it a fraction of the way there. “But I thought, all this time I thought –”

“I know,” Sirius said. “I know.” He pressed his cheek tightly against Remus’, and Remus pressed back. They breathed, together, and for a moment this could have been any moment at all: months or years ago, when they were just two boys, nothing more on their minds than a stolen kiss or a new mission for the Order, adventures that were grand instead of deadly.

Sirius whispered, “We’ll pretend. Just for tonight, nothing’s wrong with the world.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Remus agreed, and for a moment he let his eyes fall closed, feeling Sirius’ breath warm on his cheek. “It’s Christmas, and you’re here.”

When he opened his eyes, Sirius was smiling a sad and wry smile, full of pain but somehow beautiful. Even exhausted and unkempt after months on the run, Sirius was still the most beautiful thing Remus had ever known.

“Padfoot,” Remus said. “You don’t have to stand in the doorway. Come inside.”

He led Sirius to the fire, which still burned merry and bright, as if no time had passed since Remus had last tended it. Maybe no time _had_ passed. Maybe this night could live somewhere outside of time.

There was only the one chair, so they sat instead on the floor in front of the fire, side by side with their shoulders pressed together, Sirius’ cloak wrapped around both of them. The wind had died away to a faint hush, sweeping around the cottage walls. The fire danced and cast up tiny sparks that whirled in the air before being drawn away up the chimney, up and out into the night.

Sirius said, not taking his eyes from the flames, “I miss him every day. Both of them.”

“I know,” Remus said. He found Sirius’ hand beneath the folds of the cloak, and gripped it.

“It doesn’t seem real, that they’re never coming back. It doesn’t seem possible.”

“I know.” 

Sirius lay his head wearily down on Remus’ shoulder and Remus reached up to touch his hair, smoothing strands of it back from Sirius’ forehead, from his cheeks, from his stubbled jaw. Revelling in the familiar lines and curves of Sirius’ face. The curve of his cheekbone, the arch of his eyebrows: Remus would know these anywhere, in a million years, in another world, at the end of time.

“But just for tonight…” Remus murmured.

“Just for tonight,” Sirius agreed with a sigh. He lifted his head and reached out one hand to touch Remus’ shoulder, drawing him close. “For tonight, there’s nothing else in the world.” 

Remus leaned in. Sirius tilted his chin in an elegant, unspoken question. And Remus closed the last distance between them to meet Sirius’ lips, warm and alive. So alive.

The fire crackled. The wind shifted and sighed. Sirius cupped one hand around the back of Remus’ neck and whispered, “Moony,” fond and warm in Remus’ ear.

The sound of his voice was the truest kind of coming home.

_~ The End ~_

**Author's Note:**

> Here are my other Remus/Sirius stories:
> 
> • [On a Windswept Cliff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2066574/chapters/4492539) – the Remus/Sirius gothic romance AU!  
> • [A Constellation’s Just a Picture in the Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268578/chapters/12157184) – a slight-canon-divergence AU of adventure and romance.  
> • [The Fall of the House of Black](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12462843) – another gothic romance, that's also a fusion with Edgar Allan Poe.  
> • [Northern Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12526136) – Remus takes Sirius to watch the northern lights.  
> • [Dust and Soot and Silence](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2348966) – four nights of difficult emotions, in 1979.  
> • [Hangover Cures](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2642246) – fluff and romance, one morning ca. 1980.  
> • [Shipwreck Against Your Eyes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2642282) – things falling apart, in September 1981.  
> • [Never Say Never Never](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2707922) – fluff and fun and Muggle films, in 1977.  
> • [ Let the Tea Leaves Fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902497) – friendship and foreshadowing, 1978.  
> • [ Like Leaves and Kings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342946) – the Marauders, on the cusp of adulthood, with just a touch of Remus/Sirius.  
> • [ River, Sea and Stream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061827) – three moments.  
> • [ Bliss of the Domestic Kind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568927) – a post-canon moment of happiness.  
> • [Boys in Space](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1736696) – a fun little outer space AU.  
> • and a fun co-written project with stereolightning: [Fantastic Beasts and How to Win Their Hearts: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978381/chapters/11434138)


End file.
